“No,” I answered quickly. “But we aren’t enemies either.”
She signed, “He’s a good man.”
She was the first person I’d ever heard say such a thing about Jackson Emery.
“He’s broken,” she continued, “but good.”
The idea that broken things could still be good was a thought that would stay with me for a while.
“I’m starting to see that in him—the goodness,” I told her.
“His mother was in the same car accident with my husband the night of that huge thunderstorm. Did you know that?”
“Oh my gosh, no…I had no clue.”
“Yeah. He was just a boy when he lost his mother. He adored her, and she adored him. After she passed away, I think a big part of him died, too, which is sad. I watched him go from this quiet boy in town to this bad seed. He loved her more than anything and losing someone that close to you is enough to make a person’s mind go dark. So him coming here to this bookshop means a lot for me. Even though he doesn’t speak my way or let me close, it’s almost as if I can watch over him. I’m sure that’s what his mother would’ve wanted. It’s what I would’ve wanted for Josie if I ever passed away. Someone to look after my loved one.”
“You’re a good woman, Betty.”
She smiled. “And he’s a good man.”
“Is it okay if I leave a book in his corner for him to find tomorrow?” I asked her.
“Of course, honey. I won’t move it.”
Walking back into the bookshop, I went in search of a novel to leave for Jackson. I thought back to books I’d read, and which ones made my heart race, wondering which one might do the same for Jackson.
My fingers landed on Long Way Down by Jason Reynold.
It had been a stay-up-all-night novel for me.
I grabbed it and a Post-it note and wrote:
It’s written in verse, and you’ll feel each word within it.
-Princess
We kept it up, too, exchanging notes with different books. It was good to escape my current reality into the world of novels. Plus, Jackson had great taste in books, which made it easier to fall into every single word. Each time I found a Post-it note, I felt as if I was walking into a new adventure. Even though the words we exchanged were only on small pieces of paper, I felt as if I was learning more about the hard man who didn’t let people in.
I was finally zooming in on the town’s black sheep, and he was zooming right back in on me.
*
This one will hurt you.
Let it.
-Oscar
*
This one will heal you.
Let it.
-Princess
*
This heroine reminds me of you.
She cries on every page.
-Oscar
*
This hero’s a total jerk.
Are you related to him?
-Princess
*
The last book you gave me was fucking sad. Is the town’s good girl really that dark inside?
I loved it. Now, read this one, which is even darker.
-Oscar
*
You always give me books that make me cry.
-Princess
*
I’ve learned it’s not too hard to bring you to tears.
-Oscar
*
Wow. Wow. Wow.
Five-star read.
More like this, please?
-Princess
*
Saw you at the bakery today. Your eyes looked sad.
Here’s a book you can’t help but laugh at.
-Oscar
He’d noticed me in town when I hadn’t even seen him. It made me think of all the times I saw him walking around town with Tucker in his arms, or just exploring when he didn’t know I’d seen him.
How many times had we stealthily noticed one another?
I started reading the novel he’d left me, and he was right—I couldn’t stop giggling. I was shushed a few times by others in the bookshop for my laughter being too loud, but I couldn’t help it. Sometimes, the best thing for a sad heart is a book that makes you laugh.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to get through the next few chapters without breaking into a giggling fest, so I stood to go back to Judy’s to read in my bedroom where I wouldn’t bother anyone.
As I walked through the space, I thought about the characters in the novel and kept giggling to myself. Then I passed Jackson’s corner, and he looked up at me.
I gave him half of a grin and held the book to my chest. “Thank you,” I mouthed.
He gave me the other half of my smile and nodded once before looking back down at his book. A half smile from Jackson Emery felt like so much more than the average person’s full-blown grin.
24
Jackson
Grace went against everything I’d been taught to believe about her. She was kind, gentle, and funny, the complete opposite of the snobby, rude, inconsiderate woman I had believed her to be.
That was hard for me to accept.
When you are taught to hate a stranger your whole life, it’s humbling to realize you wasted energy hating something that wasn’t even real.
Gracelyn Mae Harris was on a path of discovering who she was while I was on a path of erasing my judgmental thoughts about who I thought she was.
As she was learning about herself, I was learning about her, too.
She was weird, and spunky, and broken, yet somehow whole. I’d never come across a person who was so broken yet still whole.
The truth of the matter was that I liked her.
That was weird, too—for me to like a person. I didn’t know what that meant, mainly because I didn’t understand my messed-up feelings.
On the following days, I tried my best to shake off my thoughts of her. If I’d learned anything about feelings, it was that they made no sense whatsoever. So I kept busy in the shop. When my head was inside a car engine and music was blasting through my headphones, I was able to tune out the world around me.
I was able to get her eyes out of my mind for a small moment in time.
When I heard the bell above the front door ding, I took out my headphones and looked up at the front of the shop. A man in a suit stood there with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Tucker walked toward him, wagging his tail as he always did, to greet the stranger.
The guy pushed Tucker to the side with his leg and told him to go away.
My body tensed.
The dude was already on my bad side.
I walked over to him and cocked an eyebrow. “We’re closed.”
“What? Your sign says open,” he commented.
“Yeah. Then you shoved my dog. So, we’re closed. You can fuck off and take your car elsewhere.”
“I’m not here for my car. I’m here to talk about Grace,” he told me. “I’m her husband, Finn.”
“I don’t care,” I replied dryly.
“What?”
“I don’t care who you are. You pushed my dog, so you can still piss off.”
“Dude, that dog is hanging on by a thread. I probably did it a favor.”
“Are you trying to die today, or are you just fucking stupid? Leave.”
He didn’t.
“I need you to stay away from Grace,” he ordered me.
“I’m tired of people coming into my shop and telling me what to do.”
Finn looked like the type of asshole Grace would’ve married. He stood as if he came from money, wearing a suit that probably cost more than my whole wardrobe. If that princess were to ever fall for a man, it would be that knight in shining armor. He and I were different in almost every single way.
I couldn’t help but wonder how she found her way to me.
“Listen,” he started, “she and I are on the course of figuring things out between us.”
“You fucked her best friend. I think that case is closed.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t act like you understand the whole story when you only know a few chapters.”
“I don’t care about the story, and I don’t care about you.”
“You’re messing with her head, man. Her family is worried about her—I’m worried about her. She’s not acting like herself.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing.”
“It’s not,” he snapped. Obviously, my comment got under his skin. “She’s not herself. She would never fall for a guy like you.”
“A guy like me?”
“You know…” His words faded away, and he shrugged. “You’re just not her type.”
“She must be more into cheating assholes.”
“Don’t act like you know me or my wife. We’ve been through more than you know. So, do me a favor and stay away from her.”